


The Barrister and the Bartender

by AnthemGlass



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe, Inspired by Fanart, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2017-12-09 04:13:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,459
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/769857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AnthemGlass/pseuds/AnthemGlass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“How about this – I make you a drink, and if it’s not what you wanted, it’s on the house?”</p>
<p>The man smirks at that.  “And if it is what I wanted?”</p>
<p>“I’m sure we could work something out,” Patrick lays it on thick, not leaving anything up for misinterpretation – the guy might be an asshole, but he’s a sexy one.  </p>
<p>Inspired by luciferinasundaysuit's incredible fanart.  Patrick is a bartender and Jonathan is a lawyer who Patrick just can't please... at least with his drinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Barrister and the Bartender

**Author's Note:**

> luciferinasundaysuit's absolutely amazing fanart inspired me immediately. 
> 
> But truth be told - I had to look up what a barrister was... I am a bartender, so the story is a bit bartender heavy....
> 
> HUGE thank you to clarinetalto4ever for the speedy and awesome and hilarious beta.

**The Barrister and the Bartender**

**Sours**

 

“Fuuuuuuuck...” Patrick moans.

Segs cranes his neck as he pours a little too much vodka into the drink he’s making – Patrick only makes a sound like that for a really fucking hot guy.  Sure enough a tall drink of fucking drop dead sexy walks into the bar.

“Look at that tie.  Shit.  Looks like he’s alone,” Segs wiggles his eyebrows.

“He’s mine,” Patrick nearly growls making Segs laugh. 

“No worries baby,” Segs slams two old fashioned glasses down and preps a pair of pink-colored shooters for some sorority girls.  “Anyways, I got my eyes on the Nose.  He’s back.”

Patrick has stopped listening, opting instead to slide down the bar and talk to the new face.  “Hey,” Patrick curses in his head – he hadn’t meant for his voice to catch.

“Hi,” he replied, just as cold and detached as his suit and tie suggested he’d be.  Patrick doesn’t care – he’s not going to be talking to the guy.

“What’s your name?”  Patrick leans on the bar, he only ever spends this much time with a customer if he’s going to get a great tip, sex, or both.

“Aren’t you supposed to take my drink order?”  The man asks – unapologetically avoiding Patrick’s question.

Patrick refuses to be shaken by the man’s demeanor.  “How about this – I make you a drink, and if it’s not what you wanted, it’s on the house?”

The man smirks at that.  “And if it is what I wanted?”

“I’m sure we could work something out,” Patrick lays it on thick, not leaving anything up for misinterpretation – the guy might be an asshole, but he’s a sexy one. 

“Go for it,” the man rolls his eyes but Patrick can tell he’s interested.

Patrick begins his show – he grabs a glass and scoops in ice.  Patrick already has the drink planned, but puts on an elaborate show for the man’s sake.  He waves his hand over the liquors behind him as if sensing something magical.  “You’re uptight...”

The man scoffs but doesn’t dispute it.

“But you’re wearing some pretty fly clothes, so you’ve got some play in you,” Patrick says his hand wrapping around the neck of the Belvedere and flipping it into the glass and ice.  “You gotta be classy and fun.  Fun is the sour mix,” he says as he presses a button on the soda gun.  “But a touch of class with some soda water.”

The man raises a single eyebrow as if he’s trying to throw Patrick off his game. 

“And then there has to be a pretty garnish for a pretty face,” Patrick winks throwing a cherry in the drink and wedging an orange slice on the rim.  He places the drink in front of the man and waits patiently.  Some customers have gotten pretty rowdy around him, though most have given up and moved closer to Segs’s side of the bar.

“What is it?”  The man asks picking up the glass and inspecting it.

“Vodka Collins,” Patrick grins, he has to be right about this one. 

The man takes a sip without a expression.  He takes another sip, as if to ensure his reaction.

“Yeah?”  Patrick is already smug about it.

“Nope,” the man smirks.  “Not even close.”

Patrick hides his disappointment behind a dismissive shrug.  “You have no taste for good drinks then.”

“Your customer service is almost as atrocious as your mixing,” the man remarks taking another sip.

Patrick scoffs and goes back to work, electing to give up on the asshole and help Segs control the crowd of thirsty patrons nearly revolting.

 

-

 

The man is soon met by a fucking drop dead fucking fuck face that’s fucking the most handsome fucking thing in the bar other than the Patrick’s mystery man. 

“Tough luck,” Segs says as the man leaves with the fuck face and Patrick is even more pissed.  It wasn’t often he got turned down – then again it wasn’t often a face and body like that came to this bar.

When Segs and Patrick are splitting the tips at the end of the night Patrick comes across a twenty with ‘better luck next time’ written in small letters.

 

**Highball**

“Well fuck me,” Segs says sipping on his own drink.  The night was still early and Patrick and Segs spent these first few hours casually drinking and talking, preparing garnishes, and serving a drink every now and then. 

Patrick looks up to see the man is back and still fly as fuck.  He takes a seat on the same stool as before.

“You’re back,” Patrick teases.

“I figured you deserved a second chance,” the man replies.  The pause signals that Patrick should go ahead and make a second guess. 

“Well then,” Patrick smirks.  “I’m thinking maybe you’d like a Sloe Comfortable Screw Against the Wall.”

The man can’t hide his shocked face and his voice hitches and trips as he replies, “a what?”

“Calm your tits,” Patrick laughs grabbing a glass.  “It’s a drink.”

Patrick is glad he got something other than the cold, calculated front the man had been putting on last time.

He slid the complicated drink out in front of the man.  “My name’s Patrick by the way.”

“Thank you, Patrick,” the man replied picking up the drinking and sipping through the straw.  “Wow.”

“Yeah?”  Patrick laughs.  “I got it?”

“No,” the man smirks.  “This is fucking awful.”

Patrick groans and walks off, sick of putting up with this ass’s shit and refraining from mentioning that the guy is still drinking the drink.  Can’t be that fucking awful then.

 

-

 

Segs serves the guy the rest of the night.  And like the night before the other perfect fuck face shows up and at some point they leave together.  Patrick doesn’t give a shit anymore.

 

**Shooter**

 

The man is back and Patrick just doesn’t fucking care.  He’s over the guy. 

“You take his order,” Patrick groans as he prepares ten shots of tequila for some really fucking annoying frat bros.

Segs comes back a minute later.  “He says he wants to talk to you.”

Patrick rolls his eyes and heads over.  “What?”

“What’s with the attitude?”  The man says, his voice still comically void of any emotion.  “I didn’t think you’d be one to give up so easily, Patrick.”

Patrick nearly fumes at his smugness but feels flustered at hearing his name on the man’s tongue, this ass-wipe is seriously getting on his nerves.  But then the guy smiles and Patrick nearly melts.  FUCK.  Patrick shakes his head and says, “all right.  You look all fancy and high class.  But I bet you have a crazy job.  Long hours, no time for anything fun.”  He puts an emphasis on ‘fun’, which highlights any and all euphemisms he’s hinting at.  “So something quick and efficient.”

“Okay,” the man’s smile devolves to a smirk.  It’s still sexy though.

Patrick throws a straw in the glass before adding ice, Kahlua, and vodka (with a little extra just to be sure) before topping with some soda water.

He puts the drink down in front of the man but stops him for before he can get to it.  “You have to drink the whole thing through the straw immediately.”

Patrick can tell the guy likes the idea of a challenge.  As if challenging back, he slowly wraps those fucking lips around the straw before sucking down the whole drink.  The sound of the straw sucking at empty air is joined by a groan as he swallows the mixture.

“FUCK!”  He exclaims, his eyes bugging out a bit.  “What the fuck was that?”

“A Mind Eraser,” Patrick smirks.  “It literally just fucks you up.  Vodka and Kahlua with some carbonated soda water just to ensure that alcohol can get in your bloodstream as fast as possible.

The guy laughs at that.  “It’s doing its job,” he coughs a bit still recovering from what Patrick knows was a rough drink.

“So was I right?”  Patrick jokes.  The drink hadn’t seriously been an attempt at his guessing game – it was just his way to get back at the asshole.

“Definitely not,” the man replies.  “But I figure since you’ve put in a good effort so far.  My name’s Jonathan.”

“Nice to meet you Jonny,” Patrick says holding out a hand.

Jonny shakes back saying, “It’s Jonathan, not Jonny.”

Patrick laughs, as if he’s going to refer to him as anything other than Jonny from now on.  He fixes Jonny another Vodka Collins, and places the drink down.  “As if you’re not getting enough drinks on the house, this one’s on me.  You’re friend is going to be here tonight, right?”

He wonders if Jonny picked up on the disdain in his voice at mentioning the friend.

“Yeah,” Jonny replies, already a bit dazed from the drink.

“Good,” Patrick laughs.  “He might need to help you home.” 

“Sharpie?”  Jonny grabs Patrick’s wrist.  “He’s not my FRIEND, he’s just a friend.”

Patrick tries not to show how happy that makes him.

“What does a guy have to do to get you to go on a date with him?”  Jonny asks.  Patrick should get him tipsy more often.

“I don’t date customers.”

“Yeah, but if you did,” Jonny smirks.

“I don’t go on dates.  I work seven nights a week,” Patrick doesn’t let the sadness of that fact show.  His idea of a life had really gone down hill – but his family was in a rough spot back at home in Buffalo.  He sent all the extra money he could their way.

“Lunch?”  Jonny asks.

“You want to take me on a lunch date?”

“Yes,” Jonny replies handing Patrick his card.

JONATHAN TOEWS, CABA AND FAMILY LAW. 

“Toes?”

“It’s Taze,” Jonny replies.  “Just give me a call.”

 

**Specialties**

 

Patrick wakes up at eight to the sound of his alarm.  “Fuck,” he groans as he rolls off his mattress on to the floor, trying to reach the alarm clock that’d apparently slid further from his mattress during the night. 

Jonny hadn’t come to the bar for that last three nights.  It kind of pisses off Patrick that he’d ask him out then disappear.  Whatever.  He fishes the card out of his discarded jeans and looks at it for the fiftieth time.  Before he can second-guess himself he calls the number.

“Jonathan Toews,” he answers.  His voice is different, if possible it’s even more constipated and void of emotion.

“Hey, it’s uh Patrick... from the bar,” Patrick suddenly wishes he’d let himself wake up a bit more before calling.

“Oh!  Hey,” the less ass-ish Jonny is back.  “I’m glad you called.”

“Yeah, so a lunch date?”

“Yes!”  Jonny answers a little too fast. 

“Where’d you want to go?”

“I’ve never been, but there’s this place – Amelia’s...”

“No!”  Patrick interrupts.  “That place is AWFUL!”

“Oh, really?”  Jonny laughs a bit.  “Okay then...”

Patrick hangs up after they’d decided on a fancy steak place that’s closer to Jonny’s office and they schedule the date for the following day.  He slides into a pair of black slacks and buttons a white button-up shirt over his undershirt and heads out for work, at Amelia’s.

 

-

 

“You didn’t have to dress up,” Jonny says as he walks up behind Patrick and nods to his clothing.

Patrick flushes a bit.  He didn’t dress up, he was taking an extra long lunch from work and hadn’t had a chance to change, so black slacks, a white button-up, and a black tie would have to do.

“I figured you’d be looking fly as always,” Patrick replies coolly.

“Ha!”  Jonny laughs and FUCK Patrick loves that laugh.

They’re seated and Jonny seems to know what he wants already.

“I haven’t seen you at the bar,” Patrick says, it’s been bothering him.

“You said you didn’t date customers,” Jonny shrugs.

Before Patrick can reply the very Russian waiter comes to take their orders.  “Hi, I Geno, what you want for drink?”

“Uhh,” Jonny starts.

“No!”  Patrick laughs.  “I’m going to guess it at some point.”

Their waiter – Geno – looks very confused.  Patrick waves him to come closer and Patrick whispers a very long and complicated drink order into Geno’s ear and the poor guy instantly looks lost and confused but seems to be worried about saying so.

“Here,” Patrick laughs picking up on the confusion.  He grabs Geno’s order pad and writes it out.  “Just give the bartender this.  And I’ll take a water.”

Patrick returns to the menu and he feels his stomach drop as he looks at the prices.  Twenty-eight dollars for a salad?!  Instantly he’s glad all he got was a water.

Apparently he doesn’t hide his shock very well because Jonny’s huge fucking hand covers Patrick’s and he looks up.  “Don’t worry, I got this,” Jonny smiles a genuine smile.

Patrick is about to fight him, he’s nobody’s bitch and he doesn’t take to pity.

“I mean with the amount of free drinks I’ve gotten from you it more than pays for a meal here,” he winks and Patrick breathes easier.

Geno brings out their drinks and is relieved to find out their food orders are much simpler than the drinks. 

“What is this?”  Jonny laughs, skeptical at the wine glass with fizzing liquid and a lemon twist.

“Just try it,” Patrick smirks.  There’s no way Jonny will like this one.  But deep inside Patrick just kind of hopes he can keep guessing.  It’s gotten to the point where he’s afraid of what might happen when their guessing game ends.

“This is awful,” Jonny cringes at the sweetness.

“It’s a Moscato White Wine Spritzer,” Patrick laughs.

“I hate you,” Jonny says with laughing eyes.

The lunch is incredible, probably the best thing Patrick’s eaten since he moved to Chicago four years ago.  He loses track of time and realizes he needs to be heading back to work as soon as possible.

“I had a great time, but I have to go,” Patrick’s brow furrows in disappointment.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” Jonny tries to play it cool but it’s clear that he was really enjoying their meal.  They walk out together to Patrick’s motorcycle parked on the side of the road.

“Maybe we can do this again sometime?”

“I’d like that,” Jonny replies, both guys are acting completely awkward, unsure what to do next.

Patrick goes in for a bro hug and the moment is kind of ruined and yet kind of hilariously awesome at the same time.  He has no time to keep chatting though and so he throws on his helmets and speeds off.

 

**Rocks**

 

It’s been two days since their date and Patrick hasn’t heard anything.  Jonny has his number since he’d called him – he figured the ball was in Jonny’s court, right?

The lunch crowd starts filling in at Amelia’s and Patrick is thankful the influx of business will keep his mind off the lingering feelings of disappointment.  Maybe it’d been that stupid fucking hug.  Maybe Jonny thought Patrick wasn’t interested.

Then he sees him.  FUCK!  He should’ve known that ever since Jonny had mentioned Amelia’s he’d show up at some point.  For a second Patrick wonders if he can get Taylor or Jordan to cover his table, but they both covered his ass when he had his date with Jonny and he couldn’t ask for any more favors for at least a month.

“Hello gentlemen,” Patrick says as he walks up to the table of four men.  Two much older guys, perfect fuck face, and Jonathan.  “Can I get your drink orders?”

Jonathan is trying really hard to hide his surprised expression.  It’s both amused and a bit suggestive.  Luckily there’s not a trace of regret.  If he really wasn’t interested in seeing Patrick again, he figured Jonny would be acting different.

The older men order scotch that Patrick could never afford, fuck face orders a beer, and Patrick ignores Jonny’s request for a beer, instead opting for his own choice for him.

When he brings the drinks he says, “Oh I’m sorry, did you want a beer?” 

Jonny is very amused at this point.  His smirk is almost congratulatory at Patrick’s ability to slip in his own suggestion.  Patrick puts the Rusty Nail down in front of Jonny – it’s scotch and Drambuie.  

Jonny takes a sip and chokes causing the other men to laugh.

“No?”  Patrick hides his smile.  “Okay, I’ll go get you that beer.  It’ll be on the house.”

 

**Old Fashioned**

 

“Just go, it’s a Wednesday, I can handle any rush we get,” Segs says, lazily pouring his second drink in an hour.  He nods to Jonny who’s just come in. 

Patrick whimpers.  Fuck, the guy looks incredible.  He’s got blue plaid under his suite with a checkered tie, it shouldn’t work but it just fucking does.

“You sure?”

“Yes, I’m afraid your man parts are gonna get backed up.  You haven’t had sex since he started coming here,” Segs laughs.  Patrick wonders if he should be concerned that his coworker and best friend knows that without having to ask, but shit – he’s right.

“Hey,” Jonny says taking a seat.  

“Segs just gave me the night off,” Patrick grins wide. 

 

-

 

“Uhh,” Patrick stops at his door.  He just realized that they were heading to his apartment because it was closer.  Fuck.  He hadn’t cleaned it in forever.  Even worse, he doesn’t want Jonny to judge the shitty studio apartment he can barely afford.  He imagines that Jonny’s got more than one room in whatever fucking swanky apartment he lives in.

“I don’t fucking care what it looks like, I just want you,” Jonny growls.  Patrick forgets his qualms and unlocks the door and they stumble in together, fumbling and kissing stupidly.  Patrick is pressed up against the door and Jonny kisses him hungrily.

Patrick grabs at Jonny’s jacket, ripping it off and throwing it to the ground.  Jonny’s hands clenched at the hem of Patrick’s white tee and pulled up catching on his stupid backwards cap and making them both fall to the ground. 

Patrick is almost thankful he lives in a studio apartment, because the stumbling walk from the door to his mattress is like six steps.

Jonny pushes him down on the mattress.  Without a frame the fall feels more intense and makes Patrick’s heart beat faster as Jonny quickly dives for Patrick’s jeans.  Unbuttoning them and yanking them and his boxers down and off in one movement.

Patrick whimpers as he looks down just in time to see Jonny, still in his shirt and tie and slack, engulfing his cock with his warm mouth.  Patrick groans, and places his hand on Jonny’s perfectly groomed hair, soft in his fingers.  Jonny moans around Patrick’s dick, the vibrations driving Patrick wild.  Embarrassingly soon after Patrick realizes he’s going to come.  “Jonny, I’m gonna...” his voice is cut off by Jonny excitedly continuing to suck and forcing Patrick to release.  Jonny hungrily swallows before kissing up Patrick’s body, spending extra time on the blond happy trail before finally making it to Patrick’s mouth.  Patrick writhes under Jonny’s embrace, the taste of himself in Jonny’s mouth driving him insane.

“Patrick,” Jonny starts before Patrick silences him with a hard kiss.  As their tongues dance he reaches behind his head to the small space between his mattress and the wall.  And returns with a box of condoms and lube.  It’s just easier keeping them close by.

Jonny’s eyes bug out at the sight before he begins to pull at his tie. 

“No!”  Patrick stops him.  He unbuttons Jonny’s shirt and pulls it off, leaving the tie around his neck so it falls beautifully on Jonny’s perfectly sculpted body.

Jonny yanks his pants down and off just as unceremoniously as he had with Patrick’s.  Patrick only needs a little prep.  It’d been a while but he was champ when it came to this stuff.

Once Jonny presses in they both gasp embarrassingly loud.  “Fuck Patrick,” Jonny whines as he begins to move.  Then his cock hits that wonderful sweet spot and Patrick moans loud and his vision goes for a moment.

Neither of them last long.  Patrick comes a second time just as Jonny unloads inside him.  Patrick pulls Jonny down on top of him with Jonny’s tie and they kiss lazily, lying on Patrick’s mattress.

“You thirsty?”  Patrick smirks, knowing full well that Jonny probably wanted to drink something after swallowing Patrick’s load.

“What do you have,” Jonny says rolling onto his back, eyelids half closed.

Patrick goes into his kitchen and grabs the only alcohol he has – cheap ass whisky.  He pours to glass with ice and heads back to the mattress. 

Jonny grabs at the drink and takes a small sip before groaning. 

Jonny kisses Patrick lightly before saying, “Whisky on the rocks, my favorite.”


End file.
